


A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes

by nanase12



Series: Hamilton Ever After [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Cinderella Lams, I mean there are a lot of characters, M/M, Mostly in passing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-31
Updated: 2018-11-04
Packaged: 2019-03-11 15:17:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13527009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nanase12/pseuds/nanase12
Summary: "Hamilton at the ball? Can you imagine?""And why can't I? The whole kingdom's invited, you said it yourself. I have just as much right to go as any of you!" He pointed accusingly at Adams."Quite right, Hamilton. You keep the place clean, you pay your rent in full, and sure you can go to the ball. Who am I to stop you?"Alexander Hamilton was going to the ball come hell or high water. This was his only chance at an audience with the king and he was not throwing away his shot.





	1. Whatever You Wish For

**Author's Note:**

> Part one in what will end up being a series of Hamilton fics loosely based on Disney movie plot lines. Hopefully I'll actually finish all of this in a timely manner, haha. Anyways, I've been trying to write this story for months. So here. Have it. Cinderella Lams.

_Once upon a time, in a kingdom far, far away, there lived a fabulously wealthy young prince that wanted nothing more than freedom; and a passionately outspoken peasant that wanted nothing more than to rise up._

* * *

 

"Jack, I thought we talked about this." The deep tone of the voice pierced through the room with a commanding air only a member of royalty could pull off.  

"So did I." The young man the tone was directed to was not concerned. It was hard to be intimidated by the man's "king" voice when he did double duty as your father.  

"This isn't another one of your silly pranks, son, this is the future of the kingdom we are talking about here!" His hand found its way to the surface of one of the prince's chest of drawers. The loud thud might have scared one of his younger siblings, but the prince didn't budge. He shrugged nonchalantly and laid back on his bed, absently tossing his hacky sack into the air and catching it. 

"It's not a prank, Dad. I just don't understand why I have to get married." He commended himself for keeping his voice steady. The two of them had discussed the same thing just two weeks prior, and the prince had always had a tough time keeping his temper around his father.  

"You can't honestly be that ignorant, boy. You know who you are!" The prince sat up abruptly, sack clenched tightly in his fist. 

"I know, that I am perfectly capable of finding my own suitor, Dad. I know it's my duty, but don't I deserve to be happy? I'm more than just the prince of the kingdom! And you're more than just a king. Would you marry Ele off to the highest bidder? Or James?  I know I'm the oldest, but you could at least try! The least you could do is stop trying to set me up. I don't care about stuff like her "being the Ambassador's daughter" or "having ties with neighboring kingdoms." Marriage isn't supposed to be a political strategy.  I'm a person—not a puppet!" But the king wasn't hearing it. He let out a growl in frustration at his son's lack of political couth. 

"Why can't you just do as you're told!" 

"Why can't you— " the prince sputtered, fishing for a rebuttal. "Ask me to do something—something reasonable!" 

"Jack!" The chest shook again. 

"Sir!" The hacky sack bounced off his side table. 

"Daddy!" Both men turned to the doorway where a young girl came springing in. 

"Ele." The man's voice was several notches softer as he turned his attention to his youngest daughter. 

"Daddy, are you and Jack arguing?" Her little hands were on her hips—her favorite doll she held behind her when she came in was dangling by her left side. "Again?" She gave them both a pointed look, and the tension in the room slowly eased as both the prince and the king shared a defeated sigh. 

"No, sweetheart." 

"Nah, El. He was just telling me about who I'm going to marry again." The king shot him a look, but the boy kept his eyes on the little girl. 

"What?!" She turned to her father, ready to scold again. "Daddy, you already talked about this!"  

"That's what I said!" 

"Yet, it's not what I said." 

"Daddy!" The prince beamed. He was gonna have to break it to Martha that Ele was his new favorite sister. 

"Ele, I believe you are supposed to be getting dressed for the day." She pouted, hugging her doll closer. 

"Martha's going first! Then she's gonna do mine!" The king laughed, and reached his hand out to the little girl. 

"I think it's time we get you back to your room." She looked at the hand skeptically before turning to her brother in pleading. He gave her an apathetic smile and a half nod towards their father, and she took the outstretched hand with an exasperated sigh.  

"Fiiiine," she drawled. "But no more fighting!" she called out.  

"We wouldn't fight if he would listen." They spoke simultaneously startling both of them. Ele giggled. 

"You guys are silly." She began leading her father out the room, berating him all the way. "You shouldn't yell, Daddy, it's not nice."  

Once the footsteps were gone, the prince let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. He fell back on his bed and shut his eyes, hoping to get a moment's rest before his father would inevitably come back. He didn't get more than a couple minutes of silence before he felt a soft thump on his chest. His brows furrowed in confusion, and he opened his eyes to see his hacky sack sitting on him. He didn't even have to look.  

"Seriously?" 

"After Ele got back, I knew if I didn't come to see you after one of your 'drama queen' arguments with dad, you'd replace me as the favorite."  

"Bruising my chest is a great way to start winning my affections, sis." 

"You were an easy target," she got comfortable on the edge of his bed.  

"Ha. Ha." They let the silence sit between them before Martha spoke again.   

"The marriage thing." 

"Yeah." 

"He still doesn't know?" 

"No, and he isn't going to." 

"Jack." Their gazes met.  

"I guess I’ll have to tell him sometime." He sighed, but his sister giggled. "What." He mumbled the word, head still cradled in his hands. 

"I think I have an idea for this one Jack." He head was back up. 

"An idea." 

"Yes!" She exclaimed with a light clap. "An idea to fix this marriage thing and make dad happy." 

"Those are mutually exclusive." 

"Just trust me on this." She stood up and moved back towards the door, a sly smirk tugging at a corner of her lips. 

"But- Mar—" 

"Trust me." And she was gone, leaving the prince alone again. He fell back on his exuberantly large bed with an 'oomph' and reached around until his hacky sack was in hand again. Hoping his sister wouldn't do anything too rash, he began to toss it as before. 

'Prince John Laurens' he thought miserably. 'What have you gotten yourself into.' 

* * *

Alexander Hamilton was happy once. He lived with his father and mother in a small cottage in the eastern province of the kingdom. He could remember all of the times he had played with the two of them as a small child—but the memories no longer put a smile on his face. He had been strong for his mother when his father had left, but then he got sick. And then she got sick. In his defense, the illness plagued a good many in their province, so she could have caught it from anywhere, but you could never convince Alexander of that. When he got better and his mother didn't, he wasn't sure what he would do.  

But life, as it always does, went on, and so did Alexander. He worked in the area until a storm came through and demolished the province. After that, he had moved to a small flat in the Middle province. He had never been before, but it was where the castle and royal family was located. Of course, he was nowhere near their home, his current neighbors weren't much more dapper than his in the East had been, but it was a start. In his years alone, he had studied the laws and political systems of their kingdom, and frankly, he had a "couple" of suggestions. He was hoping by moving to the Middle province, he'd have a better chance at presenting his ideas to the king. He had been there for nearly half a year though, and so far, his hopes had been completely in vain. He hadn't even seen him or a member of the royal family outside of the occasional royal speech. And even then, he was always so far away, they looked more like dolls than people. Still, he presented his views to anyone else that would listen. 

"So in conclusion, it's clear that our kingdom is not fairly distributing water to the irrigation sector of the economy. The haves are sitting around with more clean water than they know what to do with, while the poor risk disease to not die of thirst. And I know if our king could see it for himself, he would agree with me—agree with us all. So we have to fight! We have to let him hear us, or no one will ever—" 

"Hamilton." His name cut through the small cheers of agreement of the crowd around him and the man looked down towards his neighbor in disdain.  

"Aaron Burr, sir."  

"Don't you think you've said enough? You've been at it for an hour." Alexander scoffed. 

"I will be done," he paused to address the crowd again. "I will be done when all of the people in this kingdom are given a chance to get their fair share!" More applause, and Burr rolled his eyes.  

"They only thing you will get with talk like that is killed." He yanked the shorter boy off of his soapbox and led him away despite his protests.  

"What the hell, Burr!"  

"You need to be careful. There are better—" 

"The king needs to know!" 

"Can you shut up for two seconds?!" Alexander jumped back, not used to his wishy-washy neighbor actually raising his voice. "I was trying to say that there are better ways to—" 

"SILENCE!"  

The entire square hushed as a man approached, a large scroll in hand. Alexander tried to read the situation but couldn't catch more than mummers of "Seabury" which he had to assume was the man's name. He didn't recognize it, but with all of the commotion, he garnered he must have held some type of importance. 

"The royal messenger," was whispered into his left ear, and he whipped around to realize Burr was back at his side. He never quite agreed with the guy, but Burr had been Alexander's first friend when he arrived at the Middle Province, so he considered them close. He tried to thank him, but was shushed, and Burr directed him towards "Seabury" again. The short man unfastened the gold ribbon keeping the scroll in his hands together before taking a deep breath.  

"A MESSAGE FROM THE KING."  

This time, murmurs erupted through the crowd, but the messenger paid them no mind. 

"HEAR YE. HEAR YE. Upon tomorrow eve, starting at half past eight, our dear, just King Henry cordially invites all of you to the royal castle. In honor of our beloved Prince John, the King is hosting—" 

* * *

 "A ball?!" John nearly choked on the peas he had been steadily trying to feed to one of the castle guard dogs.  

"Yes, son, a ball. I think it would be a great way to let you meet and greet all of your subjects in a light, fun manner." 

"That's why you invited 'every eligible young woman in the kingdom?'" The king cleared his throat. 

"Well, no reason you can't mix business with pleasure." John groaned. 

"Which one is which, Dad. Because you just said the stupid party was for fun—so the marriage is business? I've asked you a thousand times to just let it go." 

"And I've asked you a thousand times to consider your position!" 

"Consider my feelings for once!" 

"No fighting at the dinner table." Martha spoke over the two men but with a regality worthy of her princess status. John had to double take. For a moment he thought he had heard his late mother speaking the words. The king must have felt similarly because he let out a heavy sigh.  

"You weren't this stubborn when Eleanor was still here." A silence fell over the whole table—not even Ele moved understanding which "Eleanor" he was referencing. 

"You weren't either," John finally responded. Martha began eating again, satisfied, and it was as though someone pressed play for the royal family scene. 

"Tell him the rest of it, Dad" she badgered, polishing off the last of her chicken. John's head perked up.  

"The rest of what?" The king kept eating, but his eldest didn't let it go.  "Dad, the rest of what?" The heavy sigh out of the king had as much reluctance as his next words. 

"I know you don't care for royal parties, but this one is important for me as well. I need you to attend properly, Jack. Those silly friends of yours will be there as well, so will you please go and at least pretend to be having fun?"  

"I can actually hang with Laf and Herc? Without you glaring at me all night?" John's eyes were wide. His father thought his good friends were a poor influence, no matter how John had insisted otherwise.  

"As long as you promise to entertain the guests."  

"Deal!" He went back to his plate feeling a lot better about the party but was brought back to the conversation with a cough from his sister.  

"And?" 

"And!?" John was incredulous. He was starting to believe he would be better off handing the position of heir to his sister. Anyone that could twist king Henry's arm this much would be a formidable ruler.  

"And," the king began. "if—and only if—you properly greet everyone and try to find a potential spouse then..." He trailed off and John pressed. 

"Then?" 

"If you don't find a suitable person after that night, it will be your choice. If you're genuinely looking and can't "click" as you call it with anyone at the ball, I will leave you alone to pick your future partner." 

"Dad!" John, for the first time in years, felt the urge to hug his father. 

"But you have to try." 

"I promise dad, I will! I mean it." And he did. No matter how he hated being trapped in his castle-life, he knew there was as sense of responsibility he had to live up to. He was the crown prince of the kingdom, and he supposed it was time to act like it. If his father could do so much, so could he. 

"Good. The ball is tomorrow evening." Henry went back to finishing his meal and John could not wipe to smile from his face. For the first time in a while, he felt like everything might actually work out.  

"And Jack."  

"Sir?" 

"Eat your peas." The prince's smile didn't falter. 

* * *

 "Burr, you aren't seriously trying to go to this thing, are you?" Alexander and his companion were walking back to their flats after the announcement. The sun was setting spectacularly in front of them, and Alexander had to squint his eyes to not trip. Even so, he could see Burr's smile. 

"Why not?" Burr humored him even though it sounded like he honestly couldn't care less. 

"It’s clearly just a weird set up for this prince. I mean who invites  _all the eligible young women,"_ he air- quoted the phrase for emphasis. "To a party if not to shop around?" 

"You're saying you wouldn't if you could?"  Hamilton paused, finger extended, mouth partially open in a retort. Burr smirked. 

"Yeah, yeah I guess I would. " Hamilton nodded with a shrug and kept moving.  

"I've only been to the castle once," Burr confessed. "With my parents as a boy. I suppose I'd like to see it again." For once, Hamilton kept quiet letting Burr have his moment. Even though Alexander found him infuriating at times, he wasn't that arrogant to not realize the man was his only friend. Without him, he wasn't sure how he'd still be able to go on living in their building. Lucky him, Burr's flat was right across from his. 

"I guess it could be fun." Hamilton mused after a couple of minutes. "I've never even seen the castle—let alone been close enough to—oh shit." 

"What is it?" Burr asked skeptically. The man's excitement was rarely followed by anything pleasant as far as he was concerned.  

"That's it, Burr! The ball!" He picked up his pace. Burr rolled his eyes.  

"The ball is what, Alexander." He trailed behind. 

"I can finally get close enough to the king to tell him about everything I've researched. This is my shot— I'll finally be able to do something about it!" 

"I doubt he'll be in the mood for politics at a ball," he scoffed. 

"He's a king. He's always in the mood for politics." Burr sighed but kept moving past Alexander and his pleading look. 

"As long as you don't get us kicked out." 

"Yes! I knew you'd be behind me on this, Burr. Imagine what could happen if the right people are listening? I just know these things haven't been fixed because the royal family doesn't know about them. Too many cheats greasing palms, so the details never get reported.  Once I explain it all, we can—"  

"Alexander, " Burr began, deftly cutting the younger man off. "I'll accompany you on one condition." Another excited look, and Burr couldn't help but smile at it. "Talk less." 

 By the time they reached their building, the sun had settled much lower on the horizon, a shadow of darkness already reaching across the sky. They attempted to cross the threshold only to be greeted by one of their other neighbors. Sensing potential hostility, Burr spoke first. 

"Thomas, what are you doing out at this time? You're usually turning in by now?" Thomas stopped sneering at Alexander long enough to smile cordially at Burr.  

"Sorry Aaron, I didn't notice you there with this riffraff blocking the view." 

"Hey!" 

"I'm sorry. With that height, he couldn't really block anything, now could he?" Burr sighed as he held on to Alexander's collar. 

"Wanna come over here and say that to my face, Jefferson!" 

"I suppose I would have to sit down to do that, wouldn't I Hamilton?" Alexander growled in anger and frustration, but Burr's grip on his collar didn't relent.  

"Just let me at him, already!"  

"Alexander, the last time I just "let you at him," you almost got us kicked out of the building!" He hissed. "You know Mr. Adams doesn't like you as is. Another fight and you're through." 

"Not my fault the landlord's a jackass." 

"Thomas." All three men looked to the doorway at yet another neighbor, and Alexander continued to bristle. 

"Madison. Great just what I needed before bed." 

"As if you were going to be sleeping." 

"Not helping, Burr." 

"Wasn't particularly trying to." 

"Thomas, let's just go inside," James weakly attempted to defuse the growing argument. 

"But I was just starting to have fun with—" 

"I am not some kind of jester for your amusement!" Alexander broke away from Burr, and Aaron failed miserably at holding back another sigh.  

"Could have fooled me." 

"Guys!" 

"That's it!"  

"And what do we have here?"  

All four heads snapped to the entrance way, as the setting sun illuminated the silhouette of the building's landlord. "Another brawl at my front door?" He allowed the rather large cat he was petting to jump from his hands as he glared out. "No doubt you're the cause then, Hamilton." 

"Of course, Mr. Adams." Jefferson cooed. "You know he's always making trouble for the other residents. I don't know why you allow him to stay here." James sighed, but nodded in agreement when Thomas bumped his elbow.  

"As I thought," the man flipped decisively. "I suppose another fine for disturbing the peace in is order. I expect it with this month's rent, Hamilton." 

"Y-you can't be serious!" Hamilton tried to say it with more conviction, but his empty wallet made it tough to. 

"When have I ever not been serious, Alexander." The dark tone of his voice only fueled Hamilton's anger.  

"I swear if—" 

"Sir, we were all just turning for the night." Burr stepped up, pulling the attention from Alexander. "Big day tomorrow, after all. We all want to be at our best when we greet the royal family."  

"Tomorrow?" The landlord mused questioningly. Thomas quickly filled him in.  

"King Laurens just announced a ball of celebration for the kingdom. Everyone is invited."  

"Ah, what a delight. Henry does throw the best parties."  

"Oh, like you've been to one." Burr stepped on his companion's foot, but the damage was done.  

"I'm sorry Hamilton, did you have something to contribute?" John Adams's glare went unseen. Hamilton kept his head down as he bit his tongue. If he opened his mouth he was sure there'd be hell to pay. As much as he hated the man, he couldn't afford to piss him off. Upon moving in, Alexander agreed to work as the groundskeeper—keep the property clean and such—in exchange for discounted rent.  An agreement the landlord could easily revoke. Without it, he'd be out on the streets again. 

"A man like you couldn't get into the royal palace even if the entire kingdom was invited," he barked. "Or did you think you counted?" Alexander's resolve snapped.  

"And why can't I? The whole kingdom's invited, you just said it yourself! I have just as much right to go as any of you!" He pointed accusingly at Adams, ignoring Burr's soft shushes to his right. 

"You really want to go to the ball?" The question hung out there, Alexander's eyes trained harshly on his landlord, conflicted on how to reply. He opted to just repeat the line.  

"And why can't I?" His chest was puffed out as he stood his ground, not even cringing at Adam's laughter.  

"Ha! Mmph—" Jefferson croaked out a guffaw before Madison tugged at his arm as a reminder to behave.  

"Why can't you indeed?" the landlord's chuckles subsided as he continued. "Well, if you're going to make it to the ball by tomorrow night, I guess you're going to have to hustle, Hamilton." The young man's confusion must have shown, because the landlord continued. "If memory serves me right, you have a fine for disturbing the peace." 

"What's new—what does that have to do with anything?" 

"Rent is due the day after tomorrow. With your previous back rent, the last payment you made nearly catches you up. But per our agreement, this month's rent has to be on time for you to remain at our residence. With, of course, the completion of the rest of your duties." The cat that had been wandering around the men in circles made noise at last, an almost mocking  _meow._  Alexander flinched as he fought the urge to let his shoulders fall. He wouldn't show them weakness. 

"So all I have to do is pay the remaining balance?" Hamilton taunted. "Piece of cake. I pay you, then go to the ball." 

"Whaaa? Hamilton has money? That's a new one—" 

"Thomas." 

"I'm just saying." Alexander paid them no mind as he looked up at Adams confidently.  

"Quite right, Hamilton. You keep the place clean, you pay your rent in full, and sure you can go to the ball. Who am I to stop you?" He turned around to step back inside motioning to his pet. "Come now, Abigail."  

"Ahh!" Hamilton couldn't help but squeak out with a jump. Abigail slid past his leg with a hiss before following Adams back into the building. 

"Haha. Hamilton at the ball. Can you imagine?" Jefferson threw a hand over James's shoulder in laughter. "Ha! I mean what would he even wear? Invitation or not, you still gotta be allowed through the gates. Maybe they'd let him in the servants' entrance! I'd kill to see that." 

"Thomas." 

"Let's go to bed James. Tomorrow should be fun." They went in after the landlord, and Alexander let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding.  

"You alright, Hamilton?" Burr spoke at last. He shot his friend a glare. 

"Better if you had actually stuck up for me," he huffed, reaching down to scratch at his left leg. 

"Did you want us both to get evicted?" 

"Ha ha. Very funny." He sighed, and began heading to the entrance as well. He paused, rubbing his right shin against his other calve. "But they do have a bit of a point." Burr put on an expression of slight surprise.  

"Alexander Hamilton giving up? Is that even a thing?" He caught up easily as Hamilton scoffed. 

"Not giving up. Just..." he trailed off. "There is a little merit to what Jefferson said." 

"Siding with Jefferson?" Burr was actually surprised now. 

"I have nothing to wear." Burr pursed his lips together while watching his friend sink in on himself, as if exposing his vulnerability made him smaller. His lips turned into a half smile.  

"Don't worry about it, Alexander." He clapped the man's shoulder as he walked past him. "I have an old suit you can borrow." The previously dejected man's eyes shot up with a sparkle that had Burr rolling his eyes.  

"Really, Burr? Are you serious right now? Because if so, I seriously misjudged you. You are way cooler, and a really, really good friend, and I don't know what I would do without y—" 

"On one condition, Alexander—" 

"Talk less." They finished simultaneously. Hamilton smiled softly. "I got it. Now let's get in before Adams changes my locks." They started to walk in when Burr furrowed his brows. 

"Hamilton, you've been messing with your leg for the last—" 

"It's that damn cat. It totally nicked my leg when it aggressively brushed past me before." He bent down to massage the small cut Burr couldn't even see. 

"Seriously Alexander?" He shook his head, finally at his door. 

"Hey," he retorted unlocking his flat. "That cat is the devil, and you know it." He finally pulled the knob open and he could hear Burr's chuckle from the other side of his door. Inside his own flat, Alexander let out a long breath. He reached into his pocket and pulled out 2 dull coins with a forlorn look.  

"I'll just pay the rent and go to the ball. You always have to run your mouth, huh Hamilton," he muttered to himself walking in. He slung his jacket on the only chair he had after stuffing his key inside of the pocket. He toed off his shoes in the same place before sitting on the bed, already planning. The old mattress gave out along groan as his weight settled onto it, but Alexander didn't seem to notice. He laid up looking at the ceiling as the last rays of light began to fade from the small window in the room. He'd have to light a couple of candles and make sure he highlighted the key points in his journal before the ball. He had make sure the audience he gained with the King was enough to make a difference. Yes, he knew he'd be burning the midnight oil, but he rationalized it would all be worth it in the long run.  

"We'll finalize the irrigation plan and leave out at half past six to the square. Should be plenty of people with the ball and all." He pushed himself off the bed, moving to the old table the chair sat near. Fighting off a yawn, he began to work, willing himself to write quickly enough to get some rest. Jefferson might have had a valid point. A decent suit wouldn't fix the bags under his eyes or the dirt under his nails. He couldn't show up looking like the maid. He'd never get close. And if he could just get through that front door—well, that would be enough.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yell at me on tumblr: @theyaoibandits


	2. Magic, Believe It Or Not

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lot of work, a lot of help, and just a little bit of magic.

"All done, Sir. You'll have the sharpest shoes at the ball." The gentleman stood up, inspecting his left dress shoe gingerly before doing the same with the right and nodding in satisfaction.  

"Nice work, son." Alexander flinched, but kept his mouth shut as he pocketed the coins.  

"Thank you, Sir. You have a good day." The man didn't glance back, and Hamilton leaned against the stoop he had found himself at. He jingled the change in his pocket as he did some quick mental math. "Just one more," he mumbled to himself as he pushed off the stair, back straight.  

"Shoe shine, get yourself a shoe shine here, and have the neatest feet at the ball!" Hamilton felt as ridiculous yelling it as he was sure he sounded, but it had worked for him all morning. The sun was beginning to settle high in the sky and he didn't want to be stuck outside when the heat would inevitably start beating down. Shoe shining wasn't his favorite, but he was much better suited for it than blacksmithing or any tough labor. He had a few odd jobs—courier service, food stalls, and occasionally pieces for the paper. If it were up to him, he would work as a royal court advisor. More modestly, he wished he could make a living off of his writings. He fancied himself a pretty witty poet as well, and while writing was more of a necessary hobby than a passion, he'd much prefer to do it for the rest of his life if it meant never shining another man's boots again.  

He called out his spiel again and got lucky. It was a younger woman with a pair of black matte slippers. He nodded to her as she sat in his chair, and he went to work. With another set of coins and a couple of flirtatious winks, Hamilton was packing up with a pep in his step. As he made the familiar trek back to his building, he couldn’t help letting his thoughts fall back to the plan he finally worked out the night before. He managed 2 and half hours of sleep, which surprised even him, and finalized the details of the top five plans he intended to present to the king. He wasn't sure how far he'd get, but he was certain that once King Henry heard one, he would be invested on hearing the others.  

It was going to be a night to remember, he'd make sure of it. A smile tugged at his lips. Rent was in his pocket. His plans were polished. Burr's nice suit was waiting for him. For once, it seemed like everything was going perfectly.   

* * *

"Everything has to be perfect." John sighed for what seemed like the hundredth time that day. The king was pointing and barking out various orders; John would argue that it was his favorite thing to do. Whether it was the floor plans or the food spread for the evening's event, he was determined to make sure it was all set up flawlessly. Everything, frankly, did not have to be perfect. It was a party. And the prince would have voiced his opinion, but his younger sister was just as enthusiastic as their father. And he refused to rain on her parade. 

"Yeah, Dad." The man frowned, turning to look at his son. The boy was draped across a rather lavish chair Martha had unceremoniously deemed "the party throne," flipping absentmindedly through the pages of a well-worn book.  

"You could put a little more energy into this, son. It is your ball after all." John scoffed, but closed the book. 

"Please Father, at the very least, admit that this ball is far more for your sake than mine." The king rolled his eyes ending with a pointed glare at his eldest son.  

"Don't start this again, Jack. You promised you'd actually follow instructions for once. I don't have time for your foolish—" 

"I only agreed to go to this party because I'm hoping you'll finally understand how ridiculous you're being! It has nothing to do with—" 

"Boys." Both royals froze. The servants paused their scurrying, entertained by the frequent arguments between the crown prince and the king. They busied themselves again as the king cleared his throat. 

"Martha." 

"Thank god, you're back." The princess simply lifted an eyebrow at the two of them, their glaring contest restarting at John's remark.  

"I thought we were playing nice." She walked further in and placed a hand on both her brother's and father's shoulders.  

"We are, Martha." John insisted. " I was just—" 

"Going." The prince gave his father a quizzical look. "Since you have no desire to help, I 'd rather you continue your reading somewhere you're not in the way." John shrugged and Martha fought off a chuckle. It was probably as close to civil as they were going to get. 

"Fine, just don't stray too far, Jack! The handmaids will be at your room at six to make sure you are prepped and ready for the ball."  

"Yeah, yeah." He cursed himself for being so weak against his sister. He grabbed his books and slipped out of the room casually. "Can't wait." 

* * *

"This can't wait, can it." 

"Probably not." 

Alexander wasn't sure what had occurred in the six hours he was gone, but he was completely sure it was Jefferson, Adams, or a combination of the two. As he reached his building, he noticed Burr at the head of the path leading up to the door. Thinking to thank his neighbor again for the loaned suit, he approached, but quickly realized why the other was stopped so abruptly. The grounds that were pristine when he had left that morning were littered with all sorts of trash. Food rinds, papers, abandoned toys, broken bottles. The line Adams spoke earlier echoed in his head as he looked at the mess. 

 _"You keep the place clean, you pay your rent in full, and sure you can go to the ball."_  

The excess fee wasn't enough. Just to make sure he couldn't go, the landlord had likely enlisted help to trash the place. Even if Alexander had the money, he couldn't go anywhere if the place wasn't kept.  A devious plan, indeed. 

"Hamilton." He jumped when Burr's hand clapped his back sympathetically. "Sorry, Alexander, I didn't expect this." Alexander looked up and followed Burr's gaze. Abigail was slipping in through a side entrance. He shut his eyes, trying to will away his flaring temper. 'Of course, it was Adams,' he thought to himself. 'The cat would never stray far away from him.' 

"He was waiting for you to leave this morning. I didn't realize this would be the result." The words drew his attention back to his neighbor who was beginning to walk away. "I have an appointment I can't miss, so I can't stick around," he trailed off. He didn't have to say anymore. Good old Burr didn't want to anger the landlord by helping. Hamilton waived him off mumbling under his breath that some things never changed.  

"You have a few hours, maybe you can still make it," were his last words of encouragement before he took off town the road. Now alone facing the mess, Alexander began doing what he thought he did best—thinking.  

"Just another obstacle," he murmured. "I don't deserve to speak with the king if I can't conquer something so smal—" His eyes widened, glistening with idea. With a smirk on his face, he turned about and took off running. If Adams could enlist help, so could he. He ran inward towards the city center, a particular face in mind. He found who he was looking for after half an hour or so of searching.  

"Phillip!" The young boy flinched at the sound of his name, head turning left and right as if looking for a place to hide. "It's me!" The boy straightened up and spun back to see Alexander running towards him.  

"AHam, that you?" He asked tentatively. He sighed in relief as the man came into view. "You can't do that to me, Ham, I thought you were security or something. Most adults around here aren't yelling my name because they're glad to see me!" A short chuckle followed, letting Alexander know the boy wasn't as frustrated as his words sounded.  

"What have you guys gotten into this time?" 

"So, whatdya need?" Alexander chuckled himself at the blatant change of topic. He'd have pressed further, but he remembered when he had been young and on his own. Phillip couldn't be more than 10. He wouldn't have trusted anyone else either.  

"I need a favor, and there's a solid meal in it for whoever's helping." He boy acted like he was contemplating the offer. 

"I'm listening." Hamilton continued. 

"So you know that housing unit over on 7th? Big lawn, three stories?" 

"Mmhmm, go on."  

"Well, it is currently," he fumbled around for the words. "I guess you could say it's in a state of distress and disarray. I need some hands to help me get it straightened up." Not a crazy request. He knew the boy and his little gang of street kids did odd jobs all of the time for food or change. Luckily, he had a little extra from his work that morning to compensate them. He praised himself for thinking three shoe shines ahead. 

"Define 'distress'" Phillip probed. Alexander sighed, thinking it'd be easier just to show him.  

"And you need this done by 5? You're gonna owe us more than some soup for this one, Ham." 

"Name the price." He said it hoping the kid wouldn't stretch too high. His wallet ached in his pocket at the statement. 

"It'll be three including me. We want the meal and a bronze piece for each of us." Alexander smiled- that he could do. 

"Deal." Him and Phillip shook hands, but the boy stopped midway.  

"Wait." He looked nervous. "One more thing. You write, right AHam?" Alexander shrugged but nodded.  

"Yes, of course." 

"Okay, then I want you to read a few things I wrote and tell me if they're any good?" At that, Ham couldn't help but smile. 

"Phillip," he started teasingly. "You're a poet?" He blushed before the younger took off running back into the town shouting, "You promised!"  Hamilton held his smile as the boy disappeared in the distance. He always swore that if he ever had a son, he'd be just like him. Not one to waste time, Hamilton began preparing bags and a broom to start the clean up process. About twenty minutes later, he was joined by Phillip again and 2 others.  

"Alright AHam. I've got Francis and Theo. Just a standard clear out job, right?" 

"Right. He paused and stuck his hand out. "Nice to meet you, Theo, Francis." They smiled, shaking his hand one at a time. 

"The pleasure is all ours," Francis spoke. She was the tallest and perhaps oldest. With a brief nod, they all went to work. Two and a half hours later, the lawn was spotless and Hamilton was paying the check at a local café for the kids.  

"Thanks again, AHam! Find us any time you need us!" The three began to go their separate ways, but Phillip turned back quickly. "And don't forget." He looked bashful again, and Hamilton laughed out loud.  

"I won't! Take care, guys! Stay safe, and I can't thank you enough." He watched as the young kids teased each other as they disappeared back in to the city alleyways. It always broke his heart to see such young kids fending for themselves. He remembered when he was one of them. He remembered the endless hunger and the fear of the local police catching you. Children should never have to live that way. And his detailed layout for reforming the city's public orphanages would ensure they wouldn't have to. As soon as he got his audience with the king. 

He made his way back to his flat with little time spare to prepare for the ball. Fighting a grin, he glanced up the outfit hanging on the inside of his door. He pulled the suit down and twirled with it while secretly promising to never mention the action to Burr. He'd never live it down. In a couple hours' time, he had scrubbed what he hoped wasn't years of grime off his skin, out of his hair. He always had that scruffy look—he thought it made him appear charming—but this time he had to be as clean as possible. He had to make a flawless first impression. 

"You, Alexander Hamilton, clean up nicely." He shot himself a cheeky wink in the mirror before triple checking that his journal was tucked safely inside the jacket. He looked to the clock and smiled. Right on time. He took a deep breath and dusted himself off one last time. "You can do this."  

He was caught off guard by a short knock at the door. Assuming it wouldn't be anyone besides Burr, he closed the distance of the small flat quickly and pulled open the door.  

"Hey Burr, thanks again for the suit," he called across the hall. His friend was peeking out of his own door sheepishly. It didn't occur to Alexander that he couldn't have been the one who knocked until it was too late. 

"Ham—"  

"Sorry, I took a while. Are you ready to—" 

"Hamilton don't—" 

"Don't what?" He didn't have to wait long for the answer. As soon as he stepped through the door, he felt a pinch at his ankle. He swore under his breath as he toppled over. The fall was predictable. What he didn't anticipate was the bucket of mysterious liquid drenching him.  

"What just—" 

"I told you not to move." Burr said dully, door still cracked. Hamilton shook his head in disbelief, still sitting on the ground. He managed to land on his rear, but when he lifted his hand to gesture at his neighbor, he realized he'd done more than trip. The dark liquid was everywhere, sticking to him and everything around him. 

 "Burr, what the hell just happened?" 

"What is that smell?" The neighbors both turned to see Jefferson walking in the breezeway, his thumb and forefinger clamped tightly over his nose.  James followed closely behind, looking downward. "Is there a dead body out here or something? Oh." He gave Alexander a once over before continuing. "It's just you. I should have known." 

"Jefferson, what the hell!" 

"I don't know what you're talking about." Alexander struggled to get to his feet, immediately wondering how the substance could be sticky and slick at the same time. He slipped once, twice before steadying to his feet, finger pointed accusingly at the man. 

"I didn't even say anything and you're already shirking the blame. Proof enough that you clearly—" he slid again, but caught himself before he continued, ignoring Jefferson's muffled laughter. "Are the cause of this mess!" 

"Please, Hamilton." He took a condescending step forward, and Alexander cursed his height. "A fool like you?  You couldn't prove anything." Alexander saw red, shouting back immediately. 

"Why don't you bend over, and I'll show you where you can shove you fucking opinio—" 

"What is the meaning of all this noise!" 

The walkway was silent as Adams, dressed in full formalwear, rounded the corner. All eyes were trained on the man. Before Alexander could even begin to formulate an excuse, Jefferson was at the ready. 

"Do you even have to ask, sir? It's Hamilton, again, as always." 

"Are you kidding me!" He retorted. "You're the one who jerry-rigged my door like a grade school prank, and I'm the—" 

"Hush." Alexander's lips pursed at the words, but his glare stayed fierce. "Always trouble—I knew the moment I took you in—that you'd be nothing but trouble. 

"What kind of—Jefferson pulls this shit, and I'm the trouble maker? I've worked harder in the last 2 weeks than you have in the past 2 years, and I'm the problem! I'm— " 

"Causing a disturbance, again."  

"Sir!" 

"Enough." He bit his tongue against his cheek in frustration. "I think you've wasted plenty of my time for the night. Madison." He turned to James who had kept his head low through the whole exchange. "Did you fetch the carriage?" 

"Yes, Sir. It should be waiting downstairs now." 

"Fantastic." He strode over to the pair, ushering them at the exit. "We wouldn't want to be late."  

"Hold on!" Alexander took a shaky couple of steps towards them. "I'm not done! I paid my rent, the place is clean—you can't just leave me here!" 

"Please, Hamilton, look at yourself. You're filthy if you didn’t notice. You can't show up like that, you'll only embarrass yourself." Adam's eyes flicked over to Burr, who was still awkwardly in his doorway. "Unless Mr. Burr conveniently has another suit you can borrow." Aaron looked to the ground, making the landlord scoff. Alexander clenched his jaw but said nothing. 

"That's what I thought. Come along gentlemen." The group of them began to move out, Burr mouthing a quick 'sorry' as he shuffled behind them. Alexander kept his fists clenched tightly at his side as they all moved past him. It took all his control to keep his breathing steady, but he'd never give them the satisfaction of knowing they had gotten to him. Never. 

"And Hamilton?" Adams paused, glancing over his shoulder. The tenant looked up to meet his gaze. 

"Yes?" 

"Clean up this mess." 

* * *

"This place is a mess!" 

"No one, is coming back here, Martie." The prince was leaning on the door-frame that opened to a back hallway.  "It's literally the maid's quarters." His eyes darted back and forth, watching his sister run around almost frantically. He had been dressed and decorated from head to toe, and all that was left was waiting. And he always hated waiting. 

"Well, you never know!" She adjusted a painting that surely wasn't off-center.  "Someone might get lost looking for the bathroom." John sighed.  

"That's what the guards are for?" he drawled. She rolled her eyes and threw the handkerchief she'd been dusting with at him. 

"Don't just stand there and be obnoxious." John shrugged and began walking away. He couldn't help but shake his head and chuckle as she called after him. "And go ask Mrs. Ross to come sweep the corridor!" 

"Yeah, yeah." Despite his lackluster attitude, he did flag down the requested maid and politely asked her to "assist the princess in her obsessive cleaning frenzy" before returning to the grand ballroom. There wasn't much of a crowd, just a few servants bustling about. The doors would open at 8:00, and John would be lying if he said he wasn't nervous. Crowds, he was used to. A crowd of people that were coming specifically to have him pick a spouse? It was completely nerve-wracking. He let out the breath stuck in his chest when he spotted the only two guests allowed in early. He jogged over to greet them. 

"Hey guys, glad you could make it." 

"Are you kidding, man? You throw a shindig this big, of course we're gonna show up. You know Laf is always looking for an excuse to party." Hercules, the bulkier of the two was leaning against John' s "party chair" while Lafayette had opted to sit in it instead.  

"Oui, I would not miss it for the world, Laurens. I never thought I'd see the day when you'd throw a ball, though, mon amie." 

"Right?" Hercules shifted. "I saw your name on the invitation and wondered if it was fake for a minute there. A ball in your honor? Odd." 

"Agreed. What is the occasion, Jean?" 

"Dad." He didn't need to clarify, and both friends nodded in understanding.  "On the bright side, if tonight goes well, we'll never have to talk about it again." Before either could ask him to elaborate, he continued. "But really, the party is for Martha more than anything. She's gone crazy planning it all." He leaned on the other side of the large chair. "At least someone's excited about it." 

Lafayette shot Hercules a knowing glance. "Please, mon amie, what did you invite us for if not to... how to say... bring the fun?" 

"Yeah, man, don't worry." He clapped a hand over Lauren's shoulder. "We'll make the night bearable for you." 

"So, we can make fun of all of the weirdos that hit on Laurens?!" 

"Of course!"  

The prince couldn't stop the laughter from falling from his lips. For the first time since the plan was pitched, he felt like the ball might actually be enjoyable after all.  

 **"** The Duchess of Philidelphia, and company, are arriving!"

Laurens cut himself off quickly and stood at attention. He kicked Lafayette out his throne and took the seat swiftly, as his father and siblings entered the room. Lost in his conversation, he hadn’t even realized the maids and butlers had cleared, the room ready at last. A petite woman appeared at the top on the grand staircase. She bowed gently, and the Prince returned the gesture with a nod of his head.  

"Welcome." She ascended with grace, and he gave a chaste kiss to the back of her hand as he'd been taught growing up.  

"It's an honor to meet you, Your Majesty," she all but giggled. He strained a smile.  

"The pleasure is mine." The orchestra started up as the grand duke announced the arrival of another guest.  

"And so it begins." 

John pretended not to hear Hercules's mumble as he led the Duchess on to the dancefloor. He spun her in practiced circles, as she chatted softly with him. He laughed, finding one of her jokes genuinely funny before he was off dancing with the next one. He looked over her shoulder. His father looked pleased, his friends were chuckling by his throne, and the spinning hadn't made him dizzy yet. As John introduced himself to the next arrival, he decided that even if he was stuck at a party that was orchestrated for the purpose of him finding a wife, it could be worse.  

* * *

 

Alexander was sure things couldn't get any worse. 

"Shoe shine! Get your shoe shine here! Last minute shine!" He was back on the streets, but his call was much more lackluster than it was earlier in the day. After grappling with what to do—he wasn't in the mood to write for once, though he kept his journal on him just in case—he figured a little extra work couldn't hurt. Once Adams had gone, he left a pile of the sludge on Jefferson's doorstep and scrubbed Burr's suit until all the goo had come off. Even if he could instantly dry the fabric, the party had started over an hour ago.  

"Aww, look at this guy.  He's too handsome to be shining shoes, don't you think?" 

"Oh, he is cute!" another responded. 

"And he has polish on his nose," a third giggled. 

Hamilton wasn't sure when the carriage had appeared, but after hearing the occupants blatantly talk about him, he couldn't keep silent.  

"Okay, look, I know I'm short, but I'm not a kid." He straightened himself up and turned to face his peanut gallery. He stopped short, caught off guard at the sight of three spectacularly dressed women. He gave them all a smile, and smirked when the one in blue blushed and glanced away.  

"Well then, big guy," the tallest cut in. "What are you doing alone out here when there's a free party to crash down the way?" At that, his smile fell. 

"It's a long story." 

"Well, make it short." He glared at the woman, as the other two laughed behind her. After a few seconds of standoff, he let his shoulders drop with a sigh.  

"I have no way of getting there," he offered.  

"You can ride with us!" The youngest of the three spoke up. "Plenty of room in our carriage."  She patted the seat next to her for emphasis.  

"Boom. Problem solved. So?" The assertive one gestured towards the door.  

"Oh, come on." Alexander took a step back, shocked by the blunt invite. "I can't go to a ball like this!" 

"Like what?" He pointed to his face with a deadpan expression. The woman sighed.  

"Fine. Girls?" Before he could argue, the three ladies had descended upon him. One was in his hair, another on his nails while the main speaker dealt with his face. Normally the idea of having so many women flock around him at the same time was welcome, but with all of the pulling and prodding they were doing, he was reconsidering. 

"Uh, ladies what—" 

"Quiet, you'll mess me up." 

"I don't really think makeup is—" 

"God, he's helpless," said the blue one. "When was the last time you brushed this out?" She yanked at a knot, and Alexander fought off a yelp, not wanting to look any more awkward in front of the girls.  

"Probably the last time he plucked his brows." 

"Hey!" Another shush from all three, and Hamilton kept his mouth shut, resigned to his fate. A few minutes later, he was released. He nearly ran to get away from them.  

"Did we scare him?" The one holding the nail file laughed.  

"Please, he doesn't look like he spooks that easy. You look fantastic by the way." He laughed. 

"I'll take your word for it I guess." He looked at his hands, palms down admiring his shiny nails. She rolled her eyes.  

"You're never satisfied, are you?" He shrugged and she crossed her arms expectantly.  "So, what other excuse do you have?"  

Hamilton, looked at her, one eyebrow quirked, before gesturing down his torso.  

"I have nothing to wear," he spoke, annoyed he had to point out the obvious problem at all.  As impressed as he had been with the girls, it's not like they could make clothes appear out of thin air. 

"Lucky you!" The one in blue bent down inside the cart and reappeared with a neatly folded suit. Alexander was sure his face must have reflected his surprise since she clarified. "It's our brother's. He didn't want to go, but dad told him he had to for "social appearances."  We dropped him off at his friend's villa and told him we'd pick him up before heading home. And of course, he wouldn't need ball attire for that, so..." She drew out the word as she extended her arms holding the suit towards him.  

"Are you guys serious?" he questioned. He tentatively reached for the cloth but couldn't bring himself to touch it. 

"Of course. We wouldn't offer if we didn't want to," the taller interjected. "Just take it and get changed. We don't have all night." She tapped her foot, waiting. He didn't need to be told twice. He grabbed the suit, and the girls pushed him into the carriage. They turned their backs to give him some semblance of privacy for him to pull on the pants before their hands were on him again. He tried to hide his blush at his need for their assistance, not used to wearing such lavish clothing.  

"G-guys, I can—" 

"No, you can't," the taller quipped. "Just let us—" She paused and stood back, and the other two followed behind her. With one last look-over of the man, she smiled. "Girls I think we've done it." 

"Talk about a diamond in the rough." 

"Is there anything we can't do?" 

"Uh, I'm right here." Hamilton attempted to close in on himself, arms folding across his chest in defense. 

"Yeah, and just look at yourself," the one in blue spoke. And he did. The lamp light in the evening cast enough glow for his reflection to be visible in the wide windows of the carriage. There was silence as he stared in awe at the image— he didn't even recognize himself.  All the work he'd done earlier that evening was nothing compared to how put-together he appeared now. 

"Wow, I think we made him speechless," the younger laughed breaking the spell.  

"You guys really are something." He turned left and right to get a better look at himself. "Who are you?" 

The one that had done the most talking stepped forward and gave a smirk. "Angelica." 

"Eliza," the one in blue added. 

"And Peggy!" They curtseyed in practiced unison.  

"The Schuyler Sisters."    

"Geez, are you guys sure you're not guardian angels or something like that?"  

"Let's go with fairy godmothers," Angelica proposed.  

"I'll call you whatever you want." His fingertips touched the glass as he studied his face. "You ladies might really be magical." They all shared a laugh.  

"Well if you're done admiring yourself." He looked up and saw the girls had reassembled themselves in the carriage. "Get in." 

He followed the instruction, and Angelica tapped the driver, a signal that it was time to go. The horses started moving, and not being one for awkward silence, Hamilton attempted to make small talk.  

"Not that I'm complaining," he started. "But didn’t the party start at 8:30? Did you ladies get lost or something?"  

"Please," Angelica scoffed. "We're fashionably late." They all laughed again, and Alexander got himself comfortable, the tension gone with the shared chuckles. As they rode further into town, his eyes were glued to the window watching the overcrowded flats turn into magnificent mansions.  

"Oh, but there is one thing." Angelica said as the castle finally came into view. Hamilton flinched. 

"There's always a catch." 

"We have a curfew," Eliza added as Peggy chimed in as well. 

"Yeah, Daddy says to be home by one!"  

"Which means, in order to pick up our brother and get back in time, we have to leave by midnight." She looked Hamilton in the eye. "On the dot."  

He noted the serious tone in her voice and nodded once in understanding. She seemed satisfied with the answer and turned back to her sisters who were chatting softly, gossiping, likely about who they'd see inside. Alex flipped open his pocket watch. 

'I'll have just under two hours to make this happen,' he thought before clicking it shut and shoving it back in his borrowed pants. The carriage came to a stop at last, and the ladies were loaded off gracefully. Before she exited, Angelica turned to face their hitchhiker one last time.  

"Midnight, Alexander. Not a moment later." A wink, and then she was gone. He clamored out behind her in time to see the three being escorted towards the doors.   If he hadn't been so nervous- anxious- he might have bothered to wonder how the eldest Schuyler knew his name when he had never introduced himself. Instead, he patted his journal that he had transferred to one of the inner pockets of the jacket, and let out a breath of relief at the confirmation.  

"Alright royal castle," he murmured to himself. "Here I come."   
 


	3. What Makes Life Divine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The perfect dance, the perfect kiss, and the stroke of midnight.

 “Welcome the Schuyler Sisters, Angelica, Elizabeth, Margarita, and entourage!”  

The three girls strode into the hall confidently, and Hamilton shuffled in behind them. He moved quickly— desperately trying to blend in, though he’d never felt more like a fish out of water. The last thing he wanted was to be caught alone at the top of the staircase, everyone staring. How cliché. 

He managed to make it down into the party relatively unnoticed, parting with the sisters as they began to flit around the room. He tried to discreetly wipe his hands on his pants, willing the sweat clamming on his palms away as he made is way towards what he assumed to be the refreshment table. He shot a sly wink at one of the hostesses with a quick thanks, nicking a glass from her tray as she scurried off, the redness in her cheeks brief as she continued her duties. Hamilton took a large gulp of the beverage— some kind of wine. He felt it as he swallowed, the liquid courage running through him, before surveying the room. 

His eyes swept over throngs of people, some in pairs, some in groups, some alone, in dresses and suits of all colors and designs. He caught a glimpse of Jefferson, he was sure of it. No one else would be in that horrible magenta suit. He swore their eyes had met, but the man had looked right through him. With his makeover, he was unrecognizable. At least from afar. He made a mental note to keep an eye out for his neighbor to effectively avoid him for the evening. Hamilton’s gaze went back to the people around him.  It lingered on a fairly large crowd of ladies surrounding something— he assumed it was the prince— until it finally landed on a few people standing past it. Several younger children, a teenage girl, and an older man. Even without the crown, the man carried himself like royalty. Mission objective sighted, he downed the rest of his drink and took a deep breath. 

“Okay, Hamilton,” he mumbled lowly. “You’ve got yourself a date with the king.” 

* * *

“No, I’m not really looking to date right now. You see my dad kind of wrote the proclamation. But you are very lovely. Thanks for the –” The woman stormed off with a huff, and the prince was just glad she hadn’t stepped on his foot like last pushy girl he had let down. John quickly lost count of the people he had danced with, exhausted physically and mentally. He took a moment to rest in his chair, ignoring the chuckles from his friends. 

“Tired, Jean?” 

“You have absolutely no idea.” He slumped dramatically, but quickly regained his composure. If his father saw him slouching in public, he’d never hear the end of it. 

“Don’t worry man, just, you know, two or three more hours to go!” Hercules landed a hardy slap on the prince’s back along with his sarcasm, sending Lafayette info another fit of laughter. John groaned.  

“You guys are supposed to help boost my morale. How is this helping?” He was scowling, but all three knew there was no bite to it.  

“Oui, Jean. We are here to alleviate the pressure of tonight through terrible jokes. Is that not why we were invited, ami?” 

“You guys are insufferable.” Their conversation was cut short as the prince noticed another young maiden approaching the throne with interest. Before he could think it through, he was up on his feet.

“Can you guys handle that one? I’m gonna get something to drink. I can _not_ do another mindless conversation right now.” He didn’t stick around for their answer and beelined for a maid several yards away carrying a tray. Just as he was able to get his hands on a glass of water, a slightly familiar voice cut through the noise of the crowd.  

“Prince John. What a pleasure to see you again.” He turned on his heel quickly and took in the sight of three ladies in a pointed formation. He crossed their entrance earlier with a memory of a dinner with the councilmen of the North province he had to attend months before. 

“Good evening, Schuylers, I saw when they announced your arrival, glad to bump into you out here.” He scanned the crowd around the girls for a moment, slightly confused. 

“Is there something the matter, Prince John?” He shook his head. “No, sorry. I assume you are enjoying yourselves this evening, then?” Angelica gave him a sympathetic smile.  

“Probably enjoying it about as much as you are, your Highness.” He put on a forced grimace at the words. 

“Of course, I’m enjoying myself. It is my ball after all.” 

“I never said you weren’t.”  

“But,” John tried to pull a retort out, but realized he had been caught. He sighed. “Is it that obvious?”  

“Not really.” The oldest gave him a knowing look. “I just took a wild guess.” John fought the urge to roll his eyes. He was never quite comfortable around the Schuyler sisters. The middle one, Eliza if he recalled correctly, was so obnoxiously kind, it was hard not to feel inferior as a person near her. The youngest liked to play pranks. He remembered seeing Peggy get scolded several times during the dinner. She looked like she might be fun to hang out with, but he was trying to avoid annoying his father for once. And if he was being honest, Angelica scared him a little. He could never tell what she was thinking, while her gaze always felt like it could see straight into his soul. Like she always knew something he didn’t. 

“Well, I trust you’ll keep it between us. Gotta keep up appearances and all that.” He took a sip of water. 

“Your secret is safe with us.” He nodded, finishing the water. 

“Thank you. Can I offer any of you ladies a dance?” He asked out of politeness. He hoped his gratefulness didn’t show when they declined.  

“No thank you. I think you’ve had your fill of dancing with girls tonight. Maybe take a break?” He nodded again, and the three walked past him, disappearing into the partygoers. He took note that they really were alone. He swore when they walked in, there was someone else with them. A young man, almost hiding behind their dresses. He had looked wide eyed, cute even, and John fought off a blush at the thought. Obviously, he had been mistaken. He placed the empty glass down and grabbed another, draining it quickly, before beginning his journey back to his post.    

‘I probably won’t see him again.’ 

* * *

“Probably won’t ever get that close again.” Hamilton was holding his third glass of wine in the last ten minutes, attempting to drown his sorrows. He had put his best foot forward, and had failed spectacularly before he even had a chance to begin. He couldn’t believe he had forgotten about the guards. Only other members of nobility were allowed within a 10-meter radius of the king. As he approached, he had been quickly and efficiently steered away. His fifth escort back to the main crowd came with a final warning, and he had muddled back to the refreshment table. So, he was definitely sulking, taking advantage of all the expensive foods displayed on the table. No use trying to solve his problem on an empty stomach he thought, working through a plate of crab cakes as he tried to analyze the hopeless situation. He should have known about the guards. What made him think he could just walk up to the man like they were in the marketplace? Not even the miracle the Schuyers had given him could make up for is glaring lack of title. 

“Please Hamilton,” he mumbled to himself. “Fancy hair and clothes don’t matter. You’re still a nobody.” 

“Nobody cares.” Alexander turned then, wondering how he could have been overheard, but the man hadn’t spoken in his direction. “We’ve already told you, Tench, if you can’t pay, we can’t help you. We can’t just make exceptions willy-nilly, we’d be out if business.” The man flinched under the sneering from the pair.    

“I don’t want special treatment, sir. I was just hoping you would consider lowering the rate for the community. No one can afford the water and to put food on the table after this last increase.” 

“Can’t afford it? Surely you buy other things? Are they more important? A person can survive weeks without food. Water, on the other hand, you can’t go more than a couple of days. You can’t blame me for your poor spending habits.” Alexander’s nose wrinkled in disgust at the statement.  

“Sir, if you would please reconsider—” The man frowned deeply, laughter gone. 

“Silence. I’ve entertained this silly request long enough. A commoner like you should know his place.” 

“And clean drinking water shouldn’t be a privilege, you asshole!” All three men turned their gaze as Hamilton swaggered over. He was slightly tipsy and very angry. “A peasant asks for basic human rights and you make fun of him? Laugh, jeer? As if people dying of thirst is a casual side effect? People like you are exactly what’s wrong with our society!” 

“Excuse me?” Hamilton’s accusatory voice had carried; a group of onlookers had gathered around, whispering between themselves with curious eyes. With an audience, Alexander felt empowered. Even though he’d lost his chance, the least he could do was help this guy. 

“High society bullshit doesn’t give you the right to toy with people’s lives. You think he’s the one who’s lowly, but you dicks that sit on your asses while the hardworking people in this kingdom have to scrounge and suffer for a drink are the filthiest ones here!”  

“Who the hell do you think you are?” The man, now red faced, took a step toward him. “Water is our business! I’ve been running it, and all of the water in the south, for 20 years, and I will not be berated by an insignificant—” 

“Well, if you’re so damn thirsty!” With a flick of his wrist, Hamilton’s fourth glass of wine was splashed across the man’s face, contents dripping down his suit. The crowd fell quiet for a moment, Hamilton’s heavy breathing filling the silence before the wet man found his words. 

“W-why you!” The bureaucrat raised his hand threateningly, and Hamilton flinched, preparing himself for the contact.   

“Enough.” The intruder didn’t shout, but the tone of his voice made everyone freeze— his steady hand halting the man’s swing mid-motion. The next moment, they had all scattered. Hamilton wasn’t sure how it happened, but he was several feet away before he realized someone was pulling him across the room. He tugged at his arm, but the man’s grip was solid. When they finally stopped, Hamilton was still fuming, arms crossed angrily across his chest. 

“I didn’t need any help, you know. I could have taken him.” The man chuckled.  

“I have no doubt about that, but it’s better to disperse before the king catches wind of the altercation. If someone tells him a fight broke out in the middle of this big party, it wouldn’t be pretty.” 

“Please,” Hamilton scoffed. “I would get kicked out of 100 parties before biting my tongue around assholes like that.” 

“Like what?” the young man questioned, genuinely curious. Hamilton let his eyes rake over the taller man’s form. The stranger was awfully nosy, but Hamilton never turned down an opportunity to rant. 

“Bullies,” he scoffed. “Punishing—” 

“Hold on a moment.” Hamilton’s brows furrowed; annoyed he was being interrupted while answering the question the man, himself, had asked. “Dance with me.” 

“W-what?” He leaned in as if he hadn’t heard him correctly. 

“Dance.” He took hold of Alexander’s waist and right hand. “We’re in the middle of the dancefloor, and it looks weird with us just standing here.” 

“Oh,” he trailed off, moving with the swaying of the stranger.  He was used to leading and had to concentrate for a moment to steady himself at the new motion. “Now, where was I?” 

“Bullies, I believe,” the other supplied. 

“Yes!” He stressed the syllable in his enthusiasm. “Guys like that are full of crap. Acting all high and mighty as if they are better than everyone because of their tax bracket. They punish the poor just for existing, thinking money means they can do whatever they want. Like that silver spoon they were born with gives them a free pass!” He tossed his hands up exuberantly with a huff before returning them to their previous position. “I hope they choke on it.”  

“Wow, you aren’t soft spoken at all, are you.”  

“You can tell?” The sarcastic response earned a short chuckle, and the two continued to move to the music for a few moments, a comfortable silence between them. 

* * *

 “Was it even worth all of that?” John spoke up at last. The quiet wasn’t awkward, but he found himself wanting to hear more of the outspoken man’s voice.  

“That?” The man gestured towards the refreshment area. “Anytime. You have to fight for what you believe in. If you stand for nothing, what will you fall for, you know?” The song changed and John nodded. 

“Yeah, if you can’t stick up for your morals, do you really even have any?” 

“Exactly!” He paused at the exclamation, but quickly fell back into step. “All the guy did was ask for an opportunity to provide for his family. Those assholes are taking advantage of the water distribution issue that they caused, and this shortage isn’t—” 

“There’s something wrong with the water distribution?” The shorter man chuckled. 

“You haven’t been to the southern slums recently, have you?”  

“I mean...” Laurens gestured toward himself, well his clothing really. His “party outfit” Martha had picked out was clearly made of the finest fabric, the threads of gold woven throughout it caught and sparkled in the light.  

“Right. You're rich. Good point.” Laurens snorted with laughter as he took a chance and spun his companion in time with the end of another song. The shorter man stumbled, caught off guard for just a moment, but found his footing and followed through the motion. A smile playing at his lips as well.  

“As I was saying,” Hamilton tried to hold a stern face, but John could see the false anger façade slipping easily. “There’s a crisis going on, and shmucks like that are screwing over the little guy. I mean, I’m all for free capital enterprise. Just not at the expense of actual lives. The low-income farming sector in the South hasn’t had clean drinking water in months. The upper side is claiming an issue with the delivery system,” Hamilton sneered, “while they turn around and triple to price of clean water.”

“What?” John stopped his feet to look at the man directly. He hadn’t heard anything about water problems in the farming sector. 

“Yeah,” Hamilton paused with him. “They are saying the royal court is working on a solution, but it's obvious that their processing factories are dumping pollutants downstream. There was never an issue before, but overnight the water became undrinkable? Bullshit if I’ve ever seen it.”

“I know for a fact that no royal is aware of this. There’s no way they would allow such a disregard for human decency.” 

“Thank you, that’s what I said! No way the King would let this happen, but what can they say? Peasants don’t have meetings with royalty. They can't make it up here whenever they want to give their grievances. They have to trust that the people in charge are relaying the information. Obviously, they’re not.” John extended his arm, then pulled their bodies close in time with the music and dancing around them before releasing the shorter man and falling seamlessly back into sequence.  Hamilton only fumbled a little this time. “So, it’s either pay outrageous water prices to use the other half of the river or risk dying of dysentery.”

“That’s terrible.” Laurens wasn't sure what else to say to convey what he felt.

“Right.” I’ve got this whole system designed for the irrigation sector. It would pool all the water as a reservoir, and there’d be a series of various delivery channels throughout the region. It would revolutionize water distribution in the south.” Hamilton let himself be spun in a graceful twirl. “Then this could never happen again.” 

“Seriously?” Hamilton nodded, preening at the way the gentleman spoke as if he were impressed rather than in disbelief. 

“Yeah, well I got a list of ideas a mile long. Honestly, I was hoping to share them tonight...” He trailed off and glanced forlornly towards the direction he’d left the king. “But that didn’t really pan out. Haven’t had the best of luck, ha.” He scoffed, trying to hide his disappointment with humor.

“If the king knew, he’d be furious. He’d definitely be interested in what you’re saying."  

“Right, and I’ve tried to get the message across—trust me. I can’t get within fifty feet of him.” He jabbed his thumb towards the thrones. “It’s a dead end.”

John’s gaze followed the gesture and he nodded in understanding. The man in front of him was absolutely intriguing. The prince had recognized him immediately as the one that had come in with the Schuyers. He was even more captivating after speaking with him, and John found himself unable to pull away. He knew his makeshift throne was waiting for him. He knew his friends had to be wondering where he had wandered off to. He really should have been excusing himself, he’d promised his father after all. The next words that fell from his lips, however, told a different story. 

“Maybe not?” Hamilton ignored the other’s smirk, still frustrated with his situation. “You never know who’s listening. What else you got?”

Alexander had lost track of how many songs they had danced to. He scanned the crowd briefly, noting several pairs of eyes on them. He really should have been looking for a more effective way to get to the king, not throwing away his shot to dance in circles with a handsome stranger. But when he looked up into the man’s curious gaze, still waiting for his continuation, he found that he really didn’t care. 

“Ha, well there’s the crazy fruit deflation problem in the northeast marketplace. One group is undercutting everyone else, it’s driving competition, but not in a healthy way. Cheaper prices seem pretty good now, but it’s impossible to keep up. The bounce back will be ugly. They’re hindering economic growth by stifling the price of produce.” 

“Incredible.” 

“And then there’s the spike in population of homeless kids in the West. There was an outbreak at the end of last year. Medicine was prioritized for the children, many lost their parents. The province found most of the younger kids a home, but eight and up pretty much had to turn to the streets. There’s no solid system in place for taking care of them.” 

“That sounds awful.” John frowned, even as he swept the man with the music in a swift semi-circle.  

“Yeah, it is. I know—once upon a time, that was me. I’ve designed a whole system that would allow the kingdom to take care of them. Then, there are the reports of violence in the east. Some of the border guards using their position and authority to demand things. Taking advantage of the locals.” 

“My god, how do you even—” John was both flabbergasted and impressed by the man’s detailed intel. 

“Research.” Hamilton puffed his chest out, proud of his knowledge. “I keep it all in my journals.” Another song began. 

“So, you write a lot then?” The shorter man scoffed. 

“Anything and _everything_.” 

“Fair enough. You seem to be very eloquent with language.  Colorful as well.” Hamilton eyed him skeptically. 

“Are you making fun of me?” A chuckle escaped his mouth before Laurens could attempt to stop it.  

“No not at all. Just speaking the truth.” 

“Ah.” 

“Me,” John started, sliding his hand firmly against the small of Hamilton’s back. “I’m better with action.” With that, he tipped the man in his arms backwards, faces drawn close as Hamilton’s hands scrambled to grip at John’s sleeves. Hamilton felt a chuckle reverberate in his dance partner’s chest, before he was lifted back up,  

“You ass, did you really just dip me?” 

“It felt appropriate.” They twirled, back in time with the rest of the room. Hamilton grumbled, mumbling something or another about the action being embarrassing. 

“I’m not a maiden, and the dancing is just for camouflage anyway; not like we have to do all of that for ascetic, just trying to show off like a—” The prince chuckled again as Hamilton continued.

“Do you ever stop talking?”  The murmuring immediately ceased.  

“Why? Do you find it annoying? You wouldn’t be the first.” He concentrated on the dance steps to hide his scowl. He hated being told to shut up.  

“Nah, more like endearing.” Alexander snorted abruptly at the comment, grateful his head was still looking at his feet as he willed away the blush he knew was on his cheeks. He shot the other a wary look.

“Well aren’t you charming.” John smiles at the comment. 

“That's a new one.”  

“Are you kidding me?” Laurens shrugged. “Well, what do they usually call you, then?” 

“If we’re talking about my sister, probably, ‘dumbass.’” Hamilton practically guffawed at that one. The force of the laughter caused him to stumble a bit, but John caught him, guiding him back into his arms smoothly. 

“I bet, I bet. She the type to bust into your room and meddle in everything?”  

“You’ve got it.” They shared a laugh then, and John took the silence that followed as an opportunity to study the man in front of him. The crinkle of his brow as he was thinking; the glow the room lights gave his eyes. His lips, parting slightly as if he were going to say something but changed his mind. And in that moment, with a soft gaze, the low light, and the slow dancing, John was sure he was looking at the most beautiful person in the world. 

“Your voice is truly engaging.” He twirled the other man again. “Won’t you say something else?” 

“Something else?” Hamilton floundered, trying not to be embarrassed at the blatant complement. 

“Anything. Whatever comes to mind.” He led the two of them through another big motion as the music crescendoed, giving Hamilton a moment to think.

_“Oh, how shall summer’s honey breath hold out against the wrackful siege of battering days_

_When rocks impregnable are not so stout nor gates of steel so strong but time decays?”_

Laurens blinked several times, caught off guard by the man’s response. The rhythmic meter of his words indicative of poetry. He spoke low, but sure, and the prince couldn’t help but be captivated all over again.

_“Oh, fearful meditation where, alack, shall time’s best jewel from time’s chest lie hid?_

_Or what strong hand can hold his swift foot back? Or who his spoil or beauty can forbid?”_

Hamilton leaned in as they finished a lazy spin, reciting the final couplet near the other’s ear. 

“ _Oh, none, unless this miracle_ _have_ _might, that in black ink my love may still shine bright._ ” With one final flourish, the song ended, and John stood breathless.  

“You are absolutely brilliant, you know?” Alexander couldn’t help his smirk.  

“Flattery will get you everywhere, they say.” Laurens shook his head. 

“Is it flattery when it’s completely true?” He held the shorter man’s gaze in earnest, before the two of them were jostled by some of the other guests moving around as the music started back up. Having forgotten they were in a crowded room, Hamilton finally took a moment to survey the crowd again, but turned away just as quickly as he realized a good part of their area was staring. He squirmed under the attention. 

“We’ve been dancing quite a while, haven’t we?” He let his hands slacken, slipping from John’s grasp. “Guess we should probably—”  

“Take a break.” The prince quickly wrapped his hand around Alexander’s wrist before the writer could pull away. “Join me,” his eyes flitted toward the open balcony doors. “Outside, perhaps?” Without thinking, Hamilton nodded, and followed. 

As the two young men weaved their way through the room, they didn’t see Hercules and Lafayette sharing a knowing glance with each other. They didn’t hear the soft yes that escaped Martha’s lips as she watched them leave excitedly, a sparkle in her eye. They missed the confusion on the King’s face and the suspicion on Adams’s. Focusing only on each other, the prince and the pauper slipped out of the ballroom and into the night air.

* * *

 “And the look on my neighbor’s face? Priceless.” Hamilton let out a breathy laugh from where he sat on a stone bench. He followed the other’s movement as he leaned back on the balcony, his forearms resting comfortably on the ledge. They had been trading stories back and forth for some time, and Alexander was astounded at how comfortable he felt around a perfect stranger. As if he had known him for years. It was unsettling.  

“They sound awfully mean.” The taller man looked down at him with such fondness in his expression, Hamilton couldn’t help but blush. He did himself a favor and didn’t bother counting the number of times the man had made him turn red that night. He was usually much smoother, more suave, but the gentleman had him tripping over himself. It was embarrassing. The cool night air on his skin was definitely helping though, so he met the other’s gaze with a cheeky grin. 

“More like just awful—ha.” He scooted over on the bench and raised his eyebrows. A silent invitation. “I almost didn’t make it here tonight because of them.”

The air grew warmer as his company took the hint and slid on the seat next to him. Hamilton could feel his heat, and he tried to ignore the flip in his stomach that happened every time their arms brushed.  

“What a tragedy that would have been.” Alexander turned towards the voice, startled at how close their faces were. He could feel the man’s breath faintly on his cheeks. He was smiling at him, and that flip was back. Stomach in knots, that uneasiness washed over him again. But also excitement? Maybe—he couldn’t tell.  

“Truly.”  

Hamilton didn’t notice when they had gotten closer. With a surge of confidence, he leaned forward, entertaining the thought that a kiss might help him make sense of it all.  He saw the man’s shoulders tense before he let his eyes flutter shut, and their lips brushed. A burning jolt of electricity coursed through him, subsiding as quickly as it had come once they pulled apart. He was eager to push further, explore, chase the sensation, but all his thoughts were interrupted by the clear, crisp chime of the clock in the courtyard. His eyes shot open, and Hamilton caught a glimpse of the flush on the other man’s face, before he opened his eyes as well to see what was wrong. The shorter man had already jumped up, scrambling off the bench and getting to his feet.  

“I’m so sorry, I have to go.” The persistent ringing of the clock propelled his sense of urgency, as he turned to move. 

“Go? Wait—where? Why?” He stood, desperate to keep the other there, but Alexander staggered backwards, fumbling for some kind of excuse. 

“Uh, I have to see... uh, the prince! Yeah that’s right! It’s his party and I haven’t greeted him once. Tch, rude. I have to run!” He darted off leaving the man on the balcony stunned. 

“The prince...” he mumbled thoroughly confused. “But I’m— did he not know?” He snapped out of his thoughts by the sound of fading footsteps. “Wait! He bolted after him. “I don’t even know your name!” 

He was inches from Hamilton’s sleeve but was stopped abruptly as he lost his footing. He glanced at his feet, glaring at the offending piece that had halted his pursuit. He bent down to grab it, maybe chuck it in frustration, until he realized what it was. A brown journal with a neat #23 scrawled in the top corner. He thumbed through the pages quickly, eyes glossing over the words “water crisis” causing him to snap the book shut. A genuine smile found its way to his lips as he took off again through the crowd of confused guests. 

* * *

“Cutting it close, huh Hamilton.” Angelica wasn’t even looking at him as the man threw himself into the carriage, the final chime of the clock echoing through the air.    

“I made it didn’t I?” The eldest sister rolled her eyes while the other two giggled. 

“Whatever. Let’s go.” She readjusted her position, leaning over to tell the driver to move, as Hamilton stared longingly back at the castle entrance. There was a bit of a commotion at the door, and he craned his neck for a better look before having to duck down quickly. The man he had been dancing with appeared on the steps of the palace frantically, and Hamilton willed his heart to stop trying to beat out of his chest. After a few moments, when he was sure they were out of view, he sat back up in his seat. If the Schuyler sisters were curious about his actions, they didn’t show it. Angelica was filing her nails and mummering something to Peggy about the food. His eyes moved to the one in blue to find her looking at him.  

“Did you have fun?” 

“W-what?” 

“Fun,” she repeated. “At the ball? Did you enjoy yourself?” He nodded, a small smile tugging at his mouth. 

“Yeah, Eliza. It was fun. I,” he swallowed. “I’m really happy I came.” The woman seemed satisfied with his answer, and she snuggled to get comfortable in the carriage seat. Her eyes fell shut to rest, leaving Hamilton to his own thoughts.  

His gaze moved back to the castle, now a bunch of twinkling lights in the distance. He remembered how those lights had illuminated the dance floor. He could still hear the endless music, the handsome stranger’s compliments, praise; his laughter. He could feel the buzz of the wine, the refreshing chill of the air on the balcony—the heat, his smile. The man had him confused. Frightened, yet calm—nervous, but comfortable. Uneasy, giddy, awkward, excited. He could still feel his lips, soft, but chapped against his own. His fingers found their way to his lips at the memory, and his stomach fluttered again. The rush of emotions he had been fighting all night flooded back to him. That kiss really had helped clear it up. 

“Ah,” he spoke softly, his words disappearing on the wind as the carriage picked up speed. He tightened his fist over his chest in the realization of it all. “So, this is love.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY, this third chapter. Will it take me an entire year to post a 4 chapter fanfiction? Yes. Yes it will. Thanks for sticking with me, guys. This last part will be out by the end of the year or I will end myself.


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